


Use It and It Might Clings

by 27dis



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e02 Four Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dis/pseuds/27dis
Summary: "That's the first you call me by my name."Geralt threw him a look."What?" Jaskier shot back.Or;The first time Geralt used Jaskier's nameand the last time Jaskier used Geralt's.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 138
Collections: Geraskier Ship Week 2020





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Geraskier Ship Week 2020 day 1: first time.

" _ Fuck _ , bard!"

Geralt rushed to his side. The bard was clutching at one of his hand.

"Ugh, it's the playing hand," Jaskier grumbled, annoyed. He was sitting—well, forced to sit because of the sudden fall—at the dirt there, getting his "precious" clothes dirty.

_ Of course _ . Geralt knew this would happen. It had only been months since they first met and Geralt felt like he had known the bard for his whole life. It wasn't that hard to read the bard, unsurprisingly, he was truly the opposite of subtle. His presence had been loud on the witcher's usual silent journey. Too loud sometimes.

Yet, Geralt worried, glaring at the bleeding gash, then at the cliff.

Only Jaskier would be that clumsy.

"Did you hurt your head?" Geralt asked.

The bard made a face. "No? I don't think so? Why? Do I look dumb somehow?"

"You always look dumb, bard."

"I'm going to pretend that I don't hear you say that."

Geralt grunted at him, amused, while he checked the bard's hand. It was bleeding, only a tiny bit, and also in need of cleaning, fast if he didn't want to get an infection.

He decided to grab one of his waterskin. Jaskier didn't seem to agree though. He quickly pulled his hand back from Geralt's grasp.

"No, Geralt! Isn't that water precious?" Jaskier asked, shaking his head. "I think I can manage until the next time we find a water source."

Geralt glared at him.

"It could be infected, bard."

"Then? I thought you would be happy if I can't play for a few days anyway!"

"I'm not that cruel."

"But our water supply is limited!"

"You only had two hands."

Jaskier glared back.

"Why?" he shot.

"Why what?" Geralt shot back.

"Why do you suddenly care? It's just a scratch!"

_ Good question _ , Geralt thought, which he also didn't know the answer of. Why did he care for this particular human being?

It was going to be one of those questions where Geralt wouldn't know the answer of and he couldn't do anything beside accepted it.

But maybe he knew. Maybe he knew why he cared. It was exactly the same reason as why he would call Jaskier his friend—silently in his own head of course.

"Jaskier," he rasped. "Just give me your hand."

The bard stared at him for a long time that Geralt had seriously considering of yanking the hand away if that was what it'd take. Jaskier finally gave in, showing his hand to the witcher.

Geralt let out a hum, pulling his waterskin out again, then washed the wound carefully.

"Jaskier."

"..."

"Jaskier."

"Hm?"

"Wipe off that pout."

Jaskier gasped. "I'm not pouting!"

Geralt huffed as he pulled out a salve from his pack now that the wound was cleaned and not bleeding anymore.

"I'm just surprised is all," Jaskier mumbled, still definitely  _ not _ pouting at all.

"Why?"

"That's the first you call me by my name."

Geralt threw him a look.

"What?" Jaskier shot back. "It's been—what?—weeks? And you never called me 'Jaskier' even once before!" His free and uninjured hand made a big gesture at his side and he flashed Geralt a smile. A real one. Not the ones the bard usually wore while performing, no. The ones he wore when they sat on their campsite, Jaskier strumming the lute and singing lightly. The ones that only Geralt allowed to see these days.

"You are so simple to please," Geralt finally said, after trying hard to think of what to say. It was a lame response, he knew, but Jaskier smiled anyway.

"Why, I am but a simple man," he said.

Geralt didn't say anything to that, decided to just focus on putting on the salve quickly. All the while Jaskier hummed a tone, something Geralt never have heard before—or maybe he had and never noticed—, but it was pleasant and sounded happy so he let it passed.

"If you keep this up," Jaskier said as the witcher put the salve back to his pack, "I'd think you might consider me as a friend, Geralt."

The witcher huffed. "Don't get ahead of yourself too much, bard."

Jaskier grinned. "Sure."

  
  
  


Much, much later, when they were setting up camp for the night, Geralt accidentally called Jaskier by his name. He could practically feel the smugness and the happiness coming off from the bard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stupid fucking bard_ , Geralt thought as he stared down at said bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prompt fill for Geraskier Ship Week 2020 day 5: last time.
> 
> Please take notes on how I choose not to use archive warnings!

Stupid bard.

Stupid bard with his dramatic ways and distracting—

 _Stupid fucking bard_ , Geralt thought as he stared down at said bard.

It should have been him.

Geralt knew this would happen. He knew damn well this could happen to his bard at any fucking time as long as he still walked with him. He knew and he let it _happened_.

"Geralt," Jaskier called, a weak smile playing on his lips.

The blood looked so wrong on his lips. It took him back to that time where they were in Rinde, the djinn incident, and Jaskier's horrific tumor. 

But this was different. 

There were no Yennefer, no healer around, no cure.

Geralt doubt anyone could though, seeing the current state of Jaskier. It made him more guilty and he felt anger and sad and everything at once.

"'S not your fault," Jaskier said between his coughs.

 _Of course it's my fault_ , Geralt thought again, as his hand trembled to hold Jaskier still. His thumb swipe at the skin below the bard's left eye as softly as he could.

"Not your fault," Jaskier said again and for a second Geralt was convinced he saw the bard shot him a knowing look.

 _But it is_ , Geralt's thought kept telling him.

He didn't have the heart to tell Jaskier so.

"Jask," Geralt said instead. Except he didn't know what to say. He wanted to say everything and nothing at once. He wanted to scream and fight. He wanted to curse everyone alive right now.

"Jaskier," he said again and stopped. He was seriously going to scream if he opened his mouth again. But if he wasn't saying something, his mind went to work.

As Geralt stared at the weak blue eyes, he tried to envision on how his life would be without Jaskier.

Well, miserable would be an understatement.

But Jaskier was there, smiling. Despite it being weak, it was real. It was there as if it was mocking him and Geralt really wanted to scream.

The image of his bard barely grasping life on his arms was going into his nightmare stock. It was going to haunt him forever.

Geralt was sure life without Jaskier would be worse than death.

So he tried to make it a little longer, so he could remember, staring at Jaskier's eyes firmly, cataloguing the feature of his face, his stupid colorful clothes, his tender hands, his broken lute, his _smile_.

It was getting blurry.

Why was it getting blurry for him to see?

He heard a weak chuckle.

"Don't cry," Jaskier rasped, a shaky grin forming on his face. "You look ugly."

Geralt felt the tears came down harder.

"Ssshhhh, dear," Jaskier whispered again. One of his hand went up, shaking, to rest on Geralt's chest. "Say goodbye from me to Roach, won't you?"

Geralt nodded, trying to brush away the tears wetting his eyes and cheek to no avail. The word goodbye just made this more real. _This_ was happening. Jaskier was going to die in his fucking arms and Geralt would live the rest of his life alone with regret and anguish.

They said witchers didn't have emotions.

Yet here Geralt was, crying for a human with a life span shorter than him anyways.

 _This is going to happen sooner or later_ , Geralt thought, but acknowledging it and actually accepting it were two different things.

So Geralt stared at the bard’s face. He was going to miss his smile, his bright blue eyes, _everything_.

But Jaskier didn’t need to know that. No, Jaskier deserved to have a good last memory of him. So he stroke the bard’s face gently, kissed his forehead, and smiled down at him.

Jaskier was still smiling.

"Geralt," he said, staring right into his eyes. "Smile?"

But Geralt wailed as Jaskier breathed his last breath with his name on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let's not associate the words 'last time' with angst for the thousand time," I said as I put on my clown make up.
> 
> Let me know on how you think!!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment your feedback!! Any kind is certainly allowed :D


End file.
